


Deep in the Dark

by tsukibeam



Series: Ill-fated [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluffy Ending, Gun Violence, M/M, assassination attempt, badass prompto, blood mentions, prompto does not get paid enough, shitty arcade jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-07 16:09:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17369111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukibeam/pseuds/tsukibeam
Summary: While working his shift at Phoenix Games and admiring a certain prince from afar, Prompto notices something amiss...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ienablu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ienablu/gifts), [Hanabi_Angel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanabi_Angel/gifts).



> This is pure, unadulterated (but edited!) word vomit written over two days. I'm unreasonably proud of it and I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
>  
> 
> Written based on two prompts from ienablu and hanabi_angel: "You're being watched" and "do you know where I am?"

Prompto Argentum did not get paid enough.

For all the spilled soda he had to wipe up from game consoles, getting between each round button, and for all the music and game sound effects mashing together in an audio vomit jam...he did not get paid enough.

Not to say anything about the entitled outrage of some customers when they found out how much games cost and all the crying toddlers when they couldn’t get the prize they set their heart on…

He didn’t know what, exactly, he expected from a job at Phoenix Games...at least, maybe, a few free games and like, fifty zil more an hour. He didn’t even get free soda, and barely got a fifteen minute break between all the screaming children and ticket counting.

It was Friday night; deep in his shift of after school gamers high on sugar.

Prompto bunched his damp red and yellow shirt and threw it in a shadowed corner behind the prize counter where it landed with a muted slap. His new shirt felt too stiff against his body but at least it was dry. And clean, not a spot of sick from an overly sugared child…

Said boy approached the counter, guilt flooding his eyes as his hands wrung the hem of his own shirt. “Um. Sorry again…”

Prompto shook his head and tried not to grimace. “It’s uh…” Well, not _fine_ but… “Feel better.”

The boy nodded, still looking a bit green, and melted back into his gaggle of merciless, teasing friends.

Yeah, he definitely didn’t get paid enough for this job.

Outside, the city was under twilight; the sky was smoldering fire of reds and oranges while the tall buildings submerged the streets in darkness. The bright, neon signs of the arcade threw themselves out, like flashes from a real life spell.

It was pretty, Prompto supposed as he leaned against the glass counter and dropped his chin in a palm, but not exactly why he endured such shitty paychecks.

No, _that_ reason was over on the other side of the arcade where, despite approximately ten bulky game machines between them, Prompto still had a clear view of him.

Noctis Lucis Caelum, Crown Prince of Lucis, and possibly the hottest gamer Prompto had ever seen.

He wore a black jacket, the hood pulled down low to shadow his face but Prompto knew. With all the flashing games around them, Prompto could still make out the graceful line of his nose and perfect bow of his lips and the cool blue of his eyes.

Noctis didn’t come in often but it was enough that Prompto kept putting off new job applications because, well. He was pretty sure most other places didn’t have this particular perk--not that he’d ever worked up the courage to actually _speak_ to the prince but. It was nice. To see something beautiful after being barfed on.

Prompto sighed, the puff of air blowing through his hanging hair, and tapped his other hand on the glass. It was a slow night for once--despite the kid from earlier--which meant plenty of idle time for Prompto...plenty of time to stock prizes, sweep up discarded snacks...watch the prince make a valiant effort at breaking the records on his chosen game for the night.

Noctis was good--Prompto had figured out a while ago that he used NGAR for his records, whatever that meant--but he had still had a long way to go until he caught up to Prompto’s records (under QSLV).

Prompto smiled to himself, a flutter of smugness tickling his nerves, and he looked away, looked over...to see a man a couple decades older staring stoney faced at Noctis. Arms hanging tense by his side, clothing royal black but harsh, utilitarian.

At this point, several months into working at the arcade and seeing Noctis make semi-regular appearances, Prompto had seen his fair share of Crownsguard lurking nearby. Always in the shadows, sometimes even in the diners surrounding the arcade. It was more...respectable distance, fly-on-the-wall and less...Prompto bit his lip and straightened.

It was a nagging, disjointed feeling that made Prompto take a step back, his own hands clenching at his sides. Something about this guy...too far into the shadows, the furrow of his brow a near scowl as he watched Noctis. Too on edge, too...like he was about to pounce.

As if sensing Prompto’s notice of him, the man turned and lifted his chin when he caught Prompto’s eyes and nodded. Just subtle enough that it seemed like colleagues greeting each other on shift. Just sharp enough to plant a seed of doubt in Prompto.

He was overreacting, he had to be. He was tired, definitely, after a long week of...he eyed his spoiled shirt on the floor, washed in the break room sink...maybe it _was_ time to fill out job applications.

For once, Prompto was glad--grateful--when a kid came up the counter, ribbons of tickets spilling out of his arms and sporting a toothy grin.

“Hey buddy.” Prompto smiled at him, trying to siphon off the kid’s happiness for himself. “Looks like you struck gold.”

“I want the Red Giant!”

Of course--the biggest, meanest looking prize on display, hanging menacingly over Prompto’s head and watching the arcade with a glare. Prompto helped the kid gather the tickets onto the counter. “Let’s see how you did first.”

Ten minutes later, and to Prompto’s relief, the kid ran off to his waiting mother, plushie towering over the kid while its sword flopped against his head. The kid’s mother flashed Prompto a tired smile in thanks and led her son out of the arcade, listening patiently as he excitedly told her of his victory.

They’d just disappeared from the arcade windows when Prompto caught sight of the man again, dark eyes still boring into Noctis’s back as he blasted away digital monsters, apparently oblivious to...his own guard watching over him.

No guard he’d ever seen, though.

For months he’d seen Noctis come in, sometimes trailed by a beefy guy with more muscles than any one person should possess and sometimes with a prickly sort of buttoned up type. They always had an easy rapport with Noctis, their clothing also black but comfortable.

Not like this guy, who looked like he just barrel rolled out of a war RPG.

Prompto blinked slowly at the guy and then hopped back off the counter. He needed a distraction from his paranoia.

He needed to replace that Red Giant prize.

When Prompto emerged from the back twenty seconds later, wrestling a giant red plushie, the man had moved. Closer to Noctis by just a few feet and with his gaze more intense than before. Prompto grabbed the stool wedged between the prize shelf and the wall and stepped up.

The view was better up here, a kind of novelty that made him feel like a prince himself for a second as the arcade’s perspective shifted and the games’ grid layout was revealed.

Also revealed: the way the man’s hand had disappeared into his black vest and didn’t move. Like he was holding something that needed to stay hidden.

Prompto’s hands paused, the rope holding the Red Giant slipping a few inches and he blinked again. Tried to ignore how just _wrong_ this all felt, tried to tell himself that he played _way_ too many games and that it was all going to his head and that no fucking way was he about to watch Prince Noctis get assassinated.

Oh, holy Six, _assassinated_.

He did _not_ get paid enough for this.

And, like, _fuck_. What if he wasn’t just being paranoid? What if Prince Noctis did get murdered, right here in this shitty midtown arcade during Prompto’s dumb underpaid shift...did that make _him_ a little bit responsible?

The world spun; Prompto felt weightless but he held on, forced his now trembling fingers to finish typing up the Red Giant and then step down. The man--who just seemed so goddamn _obvious_ now with his scruffy beard and black vest and thick combat boots--didn’t even glance over.

But okay, _he_ needed to focus--don’t draw any attention. The guy seemed ready to tip of the edge he rode and the last thing Prompto wanted was to spook him into doing it. No calling the police, then--the swarm they’d cause would probably...

Plan--he needed a plan that would get Noctis out of here quietly and to his actual guards, wherever they were.

Oh man, he _really_ hoped he was wrong.

Prompto’s eyes swept the arcade, noting each and every game and everyone that played them. Not too many people, not nearly enough for a Friday night but he wasn’t complaining...

It was night now, the sky as dark as the alleys lining the buildings and the arcade a bright beacon in the middle. Too bright, to where he could barely see outside which was...perfect.

How did he get the prince’s attention? Don’t be too obvious, strike up the _right_ conversation--Prompto spun around, to the back counter filled with miscellania--broken prizes, calculators, take out coupons...Phoenix Games coupons for birthday parties…

Prompto grabbed a stack, the thin paper crinkling under his grip, and went around the counter. Not straight to Noctis, that’d be more obvious than this guy who--geez, he even had fingerless gloves.

The nearest customer was so busy and focused on the claw machine she was playing, tongue stuck out in concentration, that she jumped when Prompto came up beside her.

“Hey!” His voice was too cheerful, even while surrounded by cheerful toys and games. The girl glared at him but blinked when Prompto offered a red coupon. “Five free plays, on the house. Just scan the barcode at the coin exchange! Happy playing!”

The girl looked considerably more forgiving as she accepted the coupon and Prompto darted away to the next customer.

On and on, he handed out the coupons, circling the floor, doing his best to avoid the man in black. Closer and closer to Noctis until he was the only one in his line of vision, his own black clothed figure lithe in the light of the bright game screen.

Almost like slow motion, Prompto took one step, then another and another. He could see the little skulls scattered over Noctis’s t-shirt; could _smell_ something citrusy emanating off him. Any other time, Prompto would take a moment to admire the prince and how relaxed he looked, how absolutely lovely his hands were as they gripped the plastic gun.

But Prompto didn’t. Sound and time seemed to stop as Prompto took one final step and stood next to Noctis, close enough to reach out and wipe away the sheen of sweat coating his forehead.

“Hey.” Prompto’s voice was low, almost washed out by every game that surrounded them, but still loud enough to catch Noctis’s attention.

Noctis winced as his character paid the price for his distraction, the screen flashing red, but upset didn’t cross his features as he looked over at Prompto.

Prompto held his breath for a second, half taken aback by Noctis’s general...everything...and half expecting to just get shot right then and there.

“Um.” Oh, shit, what was he doing? Noctis raised a perfect brow at him. Prompto swallowed. Jerked his hand up and held out a coupon. “We’re uh. Handing out five free plays. For tonight and...you’re being watched.”

The slanting grin that spread on Noctis’s face was too playful for the demanding situation. “Oh yeah? They as good looking as you?”

Goddammit. Prompto actually flushed--he _actually_ felt red heat on his cheeks.

“The guy by the soda fountain, in black. Do you know him?” Prompto threw up a hand and pointed at something in that general direction and raised his voice. "There’s only spin ball games over there.”

To Noctis’s credit, his face went neutral when he turned where Prompto pointed and for a split second, he almost believed--almost knew that Noctis would clear this all up, naming the guy and spouting a random anecdote like _don’t mind Mark, he was born angry_ _but he makes an_ amazing _steak._

Instead, Noctis swallowed and--pouted, turning back to Prompto with a disappointed downturn of his lips. “Not my style. Got any zombie games?”

“Yeah,” Prompto heard himself say, distantly, as his blood ran cold and he used every ounce of will in him to _not_ look at the guy. “In the back. I’ll show you.”

Prompto stepped back, to let Noctis pass ahead, muttering a _dude, just go_ when Noctis refused to budge. But he did, still pouting though something now hardened in his eyes. Prompto followed close behind, heart thudding harder with each second his back was exposed.

But with each second that he remained upright and with each game machine that blocked the man’s view of them, Prompto breathed a little easier. Not much...but enough to not pass out.

Enough to get them both in sight of the back door, their path marked by the _exit_ sign that glowed an almost unworldly red.

Instinct told Prompto to hurry, to _run_ the closer they got but they both maintained their walk that was brisk at best. Too painfully _slow_ , with each second that drew them further from the man and raised his suspicion.

Noctis side stepped out of the way, practically threw himself at the gaming machine closest to the door and went through the motions of starting a game--inserting a coin, grabbing up the plastic gun--while Prompto dug in his pocket for his ring of arcade-issued keys.

Dull, muted--each key tried to glint in the arcade lights but their shine had faded over the years. Prompto picked through them, his shaking hands making them jiggle against each other but finally he found the right one and jammed it into the locked door.

Prompto’s hand found Noctis’s arm and he yanked him away from the game, the plastic gun clanging and swinging on its string, abandoned.

Together, they slipped into the balmy night of Insomnia. The door slammed shut behind them, cutting off the music, jarring them both with how silent the world became.

Prompto and Noctis stared at each other, their breaths coming out ragged, their hearts hammering faster than a roller coaster.

Any other time, Prompto would marvel at being alone with Noctis, would thank each and every star that brought him to this point. He might even throw a flirtatious smile at him, challenge him to a round of Justice Monsters.

Judging by the way Noctis’s eyes roamed freely over Prompto, and the way his tongue slipped out to lick his lips, maybe Noctis felt the same.

Maybe…

But lightening crashed through their world--a shot fired and pierced the door between them, breaking the spell as bits of splintered wood rained down around them.

So they ran instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](https://tsukibeamfics.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/tsukibeam)!


	2. Chapter 2

Noctis had muscle hidden beneath his hoodie; Prompto could feel it beneath the soft material, could even feel the warmth that seeped out. Could feel his pulse racing under where Prompto had latched onto his arm.

“Wait, stop,” Noctis breathed when Prompto brought him around yet another corner and into a dodgely lit alley littered with bits of paper and questionable puddles. He stopped, before Prompto could muster up a _we literally have no time, buddy_.

Noctis looked around, mostly dubious about their surroundings. “Do you know where we are?”

“Yeah.” Prompto grew up on these streets, had learned their names and shortcuts before he even entered middle school. “Trust me.”

“I do.” But Noctis’s brows were still pinched in uncertainty as he looked over his shoulder. “It’s just…”

“I bet your beefy Crownsguard guy doesn’t let you down town too many alleys.” Prompto clapped Noctis on the shoulder, his hand lingering for a moment to...he didn’t know? Encourage him to keep going? With the way Prompto’s legs currently shook, maybe it was more for him, just keep that trust…

 _Trust_.

“My beefy Crowns...oh, Gladio?” Noctis let out a puff of air that was either from exertion or amusement. “Yeah, no. Definitely not.”

Prompto almost quirked his lips into a teasing smile but his ears pricked up, and he turned his head as he caught the sounds of boots, heavy and sturdy, running. Getting louder.

“Wait.” Prompto whispered the word, signaling for Noctis not to move, not a sound.

Aside from scraps of trash, the alley was empty of anything useful. Not a dumpster to hide behind or in or a drainpipe to climb up. Not even a door to kick down. Despite the weak, flickering lights mounted on the buildings on either side of them, it was still too illuminated for Prompto’s tastes, dashing any hope to just melt into the shadows.

Basically the worst place he could have led Noctis in a blind panic.

But okay. Okay. He was through that initial burst of adrenaline. Now he had to focus.  

Prompto flipped through his mental map, calling up the surrounding streets and anything noteworthy. Just...something, anything, while the running boots drew closer and closer and Noctis’s breath came out hitched and he inched closer as well.

“C’mon.” Prompto sprinted in the direction he hoped would lead them away from those boots, Noctis close behind.

Down two more alleys and a wider street dotted with a few work-tired people. They all jumped out of the way, thank the Six, when Prompto and Noctis flew out at them, hurtling toward the busier streets.

Laughter filled the air, floating out from the small open air bars Prompto led them to. Neon glowed around them, smoothing out the fear from Noctis’s face, maybe his as well. It didn’t ease, that constant prickly feeling, as they wove through the few bar patrons, most of them stumbling onto the next.

They needed to get three streets over, where they could lose themselves in the crowd, and then--Prompto’s heart skipped around his heaving lungs. The subway. Catch a train to...somewhere. Somewhere safe. Away.

“Call your people,” Prompto yelled at Noctis while his brain worked to make a new route for them. “The Citadel is east but--where? Where is safe for you? Right now?”

Noctis’s cell phone was out before Prompto could blink, and even with panting breath and trembling fingers, he had a number dialed and the phone at his ear in record time.

“Specs. Trouble--need back up.”

Prompto skid to a stop, pulling Noctis beside a yakitori cart, both of their backs against the grimy brick wall of a bar. He braced his hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath but, with the thick steam of grilled meat, he coughed, his eyes watering.

The vendor, apron tied tight over his round belly, rolled his eyes but kept at rotating the sizzling meat skewers, like it was the same shit, different night. “Isn't it a bit early to be this far gone, boys?”

Prompto’s immediate response of _mind your business_ was cut off by a jab in his arm and he looked at Noctis.

“Where are we?”

“The midtown bar district, three blocks west from the Shield’s Court subway station.”

When Prompto looked, Noctis seemed impressed and, despite everything, a well of pride filled him and a laugh sort of absurdly bubbled up--only to be overtaken by more coughing.

Noctis relayed the information and Prompto swallowed back the dryness in his throat. A steady stream of people filled the little alley, none of them wearing militant black which made him...uneasy. Like escaping was _too_ easy. Their own shoes had thundered on the way over here, no way the guy would have missed that…

Slowly, by chance or instinct, Prompto slid his eyes to the other side of the street and he squinted through the small crowd, over empty food crates stacked and squeezed between bars, and signs advertising specialities and drinks.

It was merry, a bright promise for Prompto in just a few months; he could picture himself meandering to one of these bars after a long shift, maybe with some coworkers. To blow off some steam or reminisce, a cold and hard earned drink nestled between his hands, satisfying on his lips. He wanted that for himself, to see this night through with Noctis safe up in his tall, glimmering castle.

No way would Noctis ever be allowed to come back to Phoenix Games and that--that twisted inside of him. The miniscule thread connecting their lives would be cut but--Noctis would know him. They’d have this same memory of running together, deep in this darkened city. Prompto could look over his drink, toward the east, and remember...

But like a black storm rolling into the horizon, the man appeared at the end of the street, severe eyes sweeping through everything between them.

Prompto’s blood turned to ice.

“Shit,” Prompto stuttered, whacking Noctis’s arm to get his attention. Words came to his brain but not his tongue. “ _Shit_.”

“ _Fuck_.” Noctis ducked down beside Prompto, his phone disappearing into his pants pocket.

Prompto heard a tiny, muffled voice yelling through the line but they both ignored it as he pulled Noctis ahead of him, practically yanking him onto his face. They crept back around the yakitori cart, trying to keep low with shoulders hunched as they moved, back the way they came, ignoring the confused vendor’s calls.

Prompto pushed at Noctis’s back, urging him to go faster, faster, and they tripped over themselves, feet tangling and splashing through spilled drink and dropped food.

“Go, go, go,” Prompto gasped out.

“Left or right,” Noctis responded, when they got to the alley entrance.

“ _Left_.”

And although it was only ten feet until the end of the street, Prompto knew when they were spotted.

He knew, because three shots rang out; two right after the other. Screams filled the air around them, so loud and immediate that Prompto thought he might drown in it.

The third shot came, with thought and consideration, like a last chance a few heartbeats later--and pain split through Prompto’s side just as he rounded the street corner.

His own cry was lost in everyone’s screaming but Noctis must’ve heard--he turned back to see what happened, but Prompto knocked into him, pushing him forward. Something dark smeared on Noctis’s hoodie, blending into the black thread and shadow around them, but Prompto only looked ahead.

“Three blocks,” he ground out through clenched teeth, pushing Noctis again with one hand, his other pressing against his side. “ _Go_.”

Running didn’t feel good; _nothing_ felt good. Each throb of pain worsened with each step he took. Prompto’s hand was slick, sticky and his breath turned wheezing. He refused to look down--thanked the dingy street lights for covering the worst, even.

 _Three blocks_. Prompto blinked hard, and he twisted his free hand around Noctis’s shirt, grabbing a bunch. An anchor. To guide him, to pull him forward.

Cars screeched as they darted between crosswalks, jumbled in the small crowd that ran and shoved with them. _Two blocks_.

Another shot pierced the air and a _whoosh_ of air burst from a tire on a nearby car.

“We gotta stop,” Noctis called back to him but Prompto could only urge him forward, his arm feeling too heavy. “You can’t--”

“ _One more block_.”

Blood had reached Prompto’s thigh, trickling through his pants, warm and thick. Black danced at the edges of his vision but he still forced one foot in front of the other, his hand digging into his side like it could cut off the agony.

Prompto’s steps were turning clumsy, his feet dragging as they reached another intersection; they bumped into people and, uselessly, like it _mattered_ , Prompto muttered apologizes to anyone who came away red in the dim street lights.

When Prompto stumbled into Noctis’s back, when his words slurred and his grip weakened, Noctis stopped. Right in the middle of the intersection, a car horn blaring at them to move.

“ _Go,_ ” Prompto tugged at Noctis’s hand but he didn’t budge.

Another shot--and Noctis’s arms went around Prompto, engulfing him, twisting him around as they crashed down on their knees. Everyone around them scattered in a cloud of screams.

“You’re cold.” Noctis’s words ghosted Prompto’s ear, warmth instant and then fading. “Dude.”

“I’m Prompto.” And, because it seemed absurd to say right this very moment, Prompto laughed. And grimaced when his muscles clenched around his wound. “He’s coming.”

“Yeah, I know.” Noctis’s eyes had gone soft as he regarded Prompto but he lifted up, until he was standing again and looking down the street, a determined intensity taking over.

Prompto looked too, slowly, pulling all of his focus into it. The man walked toward them, so confident in his menace, his face pulled into a contoured sneer. Gun raised in his hand. Barely twenty feet away.

Prompto dug his hand deeper into his side and whimpered.

Noctis turned back, looked Prompto up and down, jaw tight and brows drawn together. Looking sorrier than Prompto had ever seen anyone look as he seemed to make a decision. “Stay here. Stay down. I’ll get you help soon.”

White-blue light shimmered and Prompto watched in pain and wonder, as a dagger appeared in Noctis’s hand. Feet braced apart, Noctis pulled his arm back and _hurled_ the dagger through the air with perfect aim at the assassin.

A soft cry escaped Prompto’s cold lips as Noctis disappeared in a crystalline light burst, lighting up the world like a starburst. He reappeared right in front of the assassin, dagger making contact with his hand; the gun clattered to the concrete.

The man twisted his body away from Noctis, snapping out a hidden knife from his boot. No pain creased his features as he landed a spinning kick into Noctis’s leg, driving him away.

“Stopped running like a coward?” The man laughed and spat on the ground at Noctis’s feet. “Let’s see--let’s see what the famous Caelum power is like, _Highness._ ”

Noctis stepped gingerly on his foot but he still managed a glare at the man before launching forward again, landing his own punch, bone crunching beneath his fist. Blood spilled down the man’s face as he staggered back a few steps.

It was amazing, _terrible_ , watching Noctis and the assassin fight. With every punch thrown, every slash of a blade in the night air, Noctis moved with fierce gracefulness, honed from years of training.  

It took Prompto’s breath away.

He could only sit there, hunched over and on his knees in the street. Helpless and bleeding as Noctis drove the man further away.

Noctis was good--his birthright demanded that of him. But whatever hell pit the man emerged from--it had given him chilling skills which he demonstrated with disturbing accuracy.

Prompto’s heart stuttered, his hand loosening on his side as Noctis took a deep gash along his arm. His pained cry and the clatter of his dagger was louder than any gunshot--and Prompto watched as the man took advantage and slammed himself into Noctis, knocking him on his back with the knife at his throat.

“No.” It wasn’t fair, Prompto thought, as sirens rang through the city. They were too far away, probably still going to the bars. They didn’t have a chance at making it in time…

It wasn’t fair.

Weeks of watching Noctis from behind the arcade counter, playing a one-sided game of catch up for the dumb record scores. Weeks of dreaming, searching for his nerve and just a word, one simple word of greeting. At least to let his existence be known. To let him have a chance, however small.

It couldn’t end like this.

“No.” Prompto closed his eyes, his breath as shallow and small in his ears as he felt.

The world spun, titled as Prompto fell forward onto his other hand to hold himself up, gravel cutting into his palm.

“You aren’t the only ones with power,” the man’s growling voice said. “You sit in your tower, the world worshipping you. They don’t know to be afraid of when peace comes--how long until you royals get bored with it? How long until you turn against us?”

That wasn’t right.

Noctis came to the arcade, seeking whatever it offered--Prompto couldn’t think of a place more opposite than a royal council chamber. He’d seemed content whiling away the hours there, relaxed over a console panel, throwing pouts and victorious grins at the screens. He picked through baskets of soggy fries and then practically dragged his feet when it was time to go.

And that slanted, teasing smile that Prompto had been treated to...before he ran with Prompto, trusting this total stranger. He had protected him only two minutes after learning his name…

That was kindness, affection. Selfless. Not a prince who’d grow bored after war ended. Just a...normal person...

And Prompto wanted to know him. The person between the gaming and the title. Somehow, he wanted to--

When Prompto opened his eyes, he immediately met Noctis’s. Blue eyes like a soft dawn; Noctis watched him, something sparking between them, something longing and shared.

The man smacked Noctis and a thin line of red blossomed under the knife’s blade. “Look at me. _Look_. So I can see when your power fades.”

 _Hell. No_.

Body screaming, his side splintering open in raw agony, Prompto heaved himself up with a low moan. His first steps were uncertain, like a newborn doe, but it was one foot in front of the other, like it had been since the start of this mess.

One foot...three feet...five...until the gun’s metal glinted dully just under him. Until every sound, even the nearing sirens, were drowned out by the scrape of the barrel against concrete as he picked up the gun.

It was heavy, smooth in his hands and slippery with the blood coating his hands. But he held firm--cocked the hammer back, and forced down a choking lungful of air as he raised it.

So unsteady--his hands trembled and his body threatened to give out from under him.

But just knowing that Noctis was watching him, trusting him, was all the brace he needed.

He held his breath. Lined up the sights.

And fired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](https://tsukibeamfics.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/tsukibeam)!


	3. Chapter 3

Prompto didn’t remember passing out.

He didn’t know if the knife cut deep into Noctis’s throat. If the gun fired true…

He didn’t know if the Crownsguard found them, or if Noctis stayed with him.

He didn’t know what the inside of a Crown issued ambulance looked like.

But he knew that the world was impossibly bright--so white that it hurt to open his eyes.

It hurt to _exist_.

A shadow crossed in front of him and Prompto, something deep within distrusting the dark, jerked away--or, tried to anyway. All he could really manage was a flop and soft whimper.

“You’re awake,” the shadow said, and...the more Prompto blinked, the more his eyes adjusted, the better he could see...it wasn’t the assassin.

“How do you feel?” _This_ man had a warm honey voice that did not match the cool ice of his eyes--but somehow it did. _This_ man looked down him with a gentle kindness that made Prompto’s throat tighten.

“Better...I think.” His voice was gravel but at least he had a voice.

“I’m glad to hear it.” The man crossed his arms, then cleared his throat. “I’m Cor Leonis of the Crownsguard.”

Prompto understood the meanings of those words, in theory. But lying there, mind fuzzy with sleep and pain and something else, he just couldn’t. Why was everything so soft?

“Your actions single-handedly saved His Highness’s life and the Crown would like to offer its sincere gratitude.”

That was...nice...Prompto smiled, his eyes slipping closed because he could. Nobody needed him.

 _Saved His Highness’s life_. Noctis was safe. Maybe Prompto was too because he was so soft, he could sleep, Noctis didn’t need him anymore…

 

* * *

 

The next time Prompto woke up was better. Still painful, still brighter than a clear sunrise.

His entire body felt like a coeurl had taken a mouthful of his side and then hurled him across the city.

But it was still better.

Prompto groped at his side to find...bandages under a soft cotton hospital gown. He fell back--into a pile of pillows that sunk under his weight.

“Hey.” This voice was gruff and Prompto turned his head to find a man with arms bigger than Prompto’s thighs. He squinted at him, blinked a few times before the man grinned. “It’s Gladio. Noct’s Shield.”

Oh.

Prompto kept staring because, “but why are you here? Someone tried to kill Noctis, they--”

Gladio cut in before Prompto could get himself too worked up. “He’s safe. Upstairs in his chambers, plenty of guards but I…”

Something seemed to ripple through Gladio--he crossed and uncrossed his arms, clenched his fists, tightened his jaw. Prompto half gripped his sheets and half tried not to pass out again because--if Gladio was about to--

“Thank you.”

Words forced out on a breath as strong as a hurricane. Like releasing a spell-- wild tension drained from Gladio with those two words and he stared at Prompto, brows pinched with something too large for Prompto to understand.

Prompto was small in his bed, just a thin pile of blankets and bandages and shaking limbs and he squirmed under Gladio’s amber eyes, feeling so heavy and so...so...something nagged him, scratched against the repeated _thanks_.

“I should have been there for Noct,” Gladio went on, bitterness seeping out but he shook his head. “I should have, but you--Sorry you got involved, but you... You saved him.”

“What happened to him?”

“What?”

“The…” Prompto’s heart was doing that icy skipping thing the closer he got to this. “The guy. The assassin.”

Gladio tilted his head. “Cor was supposed to debrief you.”

“I…Maybe he did?” He remembered voices, shadows across his memory but they were muffled, as fuzzy as his brain had been.

The silence that followed sort of...confirmed it for Prompto and he was glad there was a bed under him, to catch the way his whole body froze up.

“He’s gone.”

“There aren’t...more?” There were usually more and that guy had spoken like...like he was used to an audience.

“The ‘Guard’s investigating, you don’t have to worry.” Gladio pushed off the wall he was leaning against. “I should get back to Noct but...thanks. Really.”

“Any time,” Prompto muttered, dazed, and stared at the speckled ceiling as Gladio disappeared through the open door.

Prompto forced himself to count each speckle to distract himself. To keep from not worrying. That there might be more assassins out there, that he might have to watch over a shoulder from now on. That he’d have a scar from the assassin that he’d--

Prompto forced his eyes closed. Forced himself to give into the drifting pull of his meds and melt back into the softness of his bed, forced everything that happened far, far away.

 

* * *

 

Prompto woke, later, and those far away thoughts still pushed at the edges of his mind. He whimpered and tried to retreat back into sleep, just a bit longer, just to escape this new reality and the lingering pain it brought.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said, and then a hand took his and squeezed. “You’re okay.”

Prompto knew that voice--he had bled for that voice and the fact that it was here, beside him and holding his hand, rubbing a thumb over it...it was more soothing than any thanks he could have gotten.

Prompto opened his eyes.

Noctis--in a black t-shirt, a bandage wrapped tight around his arm and a thin scab along his neck--stood before him, mouth pulled down in a frown as he watched Prompto.

“Oh.” Prompto reached his other hand up and brushed a finger across warm, smooth skin.

Safe. They both were. Cor and Gladio were right, of course they were, they wouldn’t lie but--to see Noctis.

Prompto squinted at Noctis and noted the dark circles under his eyes, the downward pull of his lips. “What’s wrong?”

Noctis huffed out a quiet laugh and shook his head. “Nothing. You’re okay.”

“Don’t look so miserable then.”

“I just...you didn’t have to...everything, I mean. I’m here because of you and I don’t even know you.”

Prompto tried not to let that sting; the hand brushing Noctis's cheek fell down into the blankets. But he kept hold of Noctis's hand. “I don’t get paid enough to let Prince Noctis die in a stupid arcade.”

This time, Noctis’s laugh was a lovely sound that carried Prompto’s heart into the sky. He squeezed his hand. Noctis squeezed back.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Then Prompto frowned. And winced. “But not right now. Right now...fuck.”

“Yeah…” Noctis watched him a heart beat longer. Something about him radiated a shyness that clashed with his brazen flirting from before. His lips twitched though, slightly wobbly, but he seemed to be trying. “You know, I only went to _that_ arcade for the cute guy behind the counter.”

Prompto immediately went bright red and rolled his head into his pillow to try and hide it and, trying to maintain _some_ dignity said, “Tim’s not into guys, I already tried.”

Noctis snorted. And then he was shuffling closer, pulling something--his phone--out of his pocket and then just. Slid into the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight enough for Prompto’s body to roll against him, just ever so slightly.

Prompto didn’t let himself react to the flare of pain that came with being moved, not as Noctis settled against the pillows, body warm and solid and proof that this wasn’t all a dream. It wasn’t a dream.

This guy who he’d watched from afar and daydreamed about was actually in his hospital bed, actually flush beside him and flicking through his apps pages, so fucking casual that Prompto just sort of froze.

“You play King’s Knight?”

And Prompto could only really nod because like. It was supposed to be over. He’d saved Noctis--the prince was supposed to go back to his high tower but...he was here?

Noctis was here. Not just safe but-- _here_.

They spent hours like that, crammed in the bed together, arm against arm, leg against leg, while Noctis played quest after quest on his phone, moving only to summon his phone charger in a flash of dazzling blue light when the battery demanded it. A nurse brought in a tray of food; Noctis tried swiping the pudding cup but one pout from Prompto had him surrendering it.

Prompto, despite his best efforts, dozed off for most of it, catching the ends of quests or when Noctis’s characters were about to die (“shit, don’t look, that’s not impressive”), but he didn’t mind. Not when his head found its way against Noctis’s good arm and stayed there. Not when, if he looked up, he could count the lashes lining Noctis’s eyes.

He did mind when the nurses came sometime around sundown and shooed Noctis out, claiming it was the end of visiting hours, even for princes.

Noctis was slow with shrugging on his jacket, though, with the way he watched Prompto as he did...maybe it wasn’t only because of his injury. Maybe. The possibility fluttered in Prompto’s stomach, in every inch Noctis had been pressed against him, and he looked away, fingers twisting the white sheets covering him.

“You know…” Noctis eyed the room door, where the hospital loomed beyond, where dozens of Crownsguard were probably stationed. “I heard Cor was looking for your personal information earlier. Maybe for the investigation but I sort of get the feeling he wants to recruit you?”

Noctis let the statement hang while Prompto blinked at him.

While Prompto realized that Cor Leonis suddenly translated to _Cor the Immortal_. And that he knew about him.

Prompto slumped back, because like, “ _dude_.” A lousy job at a midtown arcade wasn’t supposed to bring him to... _this_.

“Um.” Noctis shoved his hands in his pockets, eyed the door behind him, but took a step forward. Kicked at the floor, and couldn’t seem to meet Prompto’s eyes for a second before squaring his shoulders and spearing Prompto full force with his blue eyes.

Something about that alerted Prompto, had him shifting gingerly a bit in his bed, to sit with full attention. Especially when a faint pink started to blossom over Noctis’s cheeks, all delicate and lovely.

“Cor wanted your info for official stuff, probably, but.” And now Noctis slanted a grin at Prompto. “But could I also have it? Like, your number, just...for me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at the end! This fic has been a blast writing and posting--thank you all so so much for every kudo and comment and just for reading <3 
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://tsukibeamfics.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/tsukibeam)!


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